


reseed

by litteringfire (heartrapier)



Category: 07-Ghost
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Series, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 13:13:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6755524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartrapier/pseuds/litteringfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It is nice, to finally see you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	reseed

**Author's Note:**

> agas = leo; karan = karey; mark = markus
> 
> i love the black beast squadron + tiashe a lot aaaaa

**THREE.**

Arms intertwined around shoulders, fingers pressing on the muss of a hair, nose stuffed into a stiff collar; Leo shoves away the confusion molded in his head in favour of savouring the scent of flowers on the older man’s clothes, a comfort within this breath-sucking embrace.

In a gasp, the older man finally lets go. He keeps his hands on Leo’s forearms, putting him at a hair’s breadth, eyes roaming over Leo’s posture, and his ever-widening grin is a lot like a sudden blossom. On the tips of his eyelashes are thinning teardrops—the one undiluted truth that not even Leo’s imagination can dream up.

All Leo can understand there and then is that he is standing still on utter, powerfully sincere _need_ to catch the Pope’s unwavering gaze, and the force of pride alone, which inexhaustively burns through him, a heat haze.

 

 

 

**TWO.**

“I believe all of you is familiar with the concept of three wishes?”

Straightening on his chair as the Bishop walks around his row, Leo makes a show of taking notes by drawing more circles on top of another on his notebook. From his right Karey sighs, while Markus tries to muffle an inevitable giggle on his left.

The Bishop, a young man of considerable seniority, regards them all with a gentle look, “We are born without any knowledge of them; we live in search for these wishes. Does any of you already know some of your wishes?”

Murmurs break out inside the room. Markus nudges Leo in the stomach, raised eyebrow doing the asking.

“I don’t know,” Leo hisses; Karey slides closer and huffs, scolding Markus’ physical strength.

Markus lifts his hands in apology, but quickly forces his way back into his two best friends’ space. “Sure you do, Leo. Why else do you think you’re here?”

“When all three of your wishes are fulfilled, then you will have finished your life purpose.”

“I don’t know,” Leo says this firmly, holding onto his pen until it slips between the gap of his numb fingers.

Markus and Karey share a look that speaks volumes—that comprehends Leo’s words to be a vow.

Leo had found a wish, back then. On the day where they’d gone temporarily deaf due to the sounding of horns all over the ground, and blinded by the flash of sunlight; songs of shutter littering their path, confetti sticking on tongue, voice a friction between teeth.

Unlike now, Leo had kept his chin up at the time, feet rooted into the depth of his base, unmoving despite the ebbing crowd. A lone figure had stood a distance away; he absorbed all of what made up Leo and left within him only one single thing.

Leo looks down at his palm, clenches into a fist. And just like that, he knows: this is his only wish.

 

 

 

**two.**

“Akkun, do you know your three wishes?”

The Father shuffled closer to Tiashe and fixed Agas with a much softer stare then the one Tiashe was drilling into him.

“Hm, I’m not sure, Prince. Do you know yours?” Agas countered playfully. Tiashe began scrunching his nose in thought like he’d always done whenever someone asked him a fairly rethorical question.

“Isn’t the fun in figuring them out?” Mark piped up, taking his seat next to Karan, who had been silently watching the lesson since it’d been set up.

“But Mar-kun, aren’t you curious?” Tiashe asked, brimming with the innocence of a child.

“Of course I am, my Prince. But it will all come in due time.” Mark smiled his fondness, so reminiscent of a supporter, “After all, when all three are fulfilled, then there’ll be no more need for me to be here with you, Prince.”

Tiashe looked at Mark, and then eyed the other three occupants in the room slowly. “I don’t want Father and Akkun and Ka-kun and Mar-kun to go.” Tears welled up under his eyes, dripping down his puffed cheeks.

Agas and Karan groaned and shot Mark with an accusing glare; Mark hurriedly leant down and grabbed Tiashe’s hands, caressing them with apologies and promises.

“It will be okay, Prince,” Agas said, in an attempt to assist his distressed comrade, “When that happens, we will be reincarnated. We will surely meet again.”

“Really?” Tiashe whimpered, “Can we still be together even then?”

It was during this small turning point that Agas could feel the miniscule vibration of time slowly ticking away.

 

 

 

**one.**

The flowers were in full bloom. The flowers always seemed to be in full bloom in this particular part of the Palace. The same type of flowers stayed in their own space; Agas could already navigate his way around the garden well enough, using one of the rose bushes as his axis.

“Agas-dono!” the Father called out, gracelessly running down the steps into the petals-laden stone path. “Have you found the Prince yet?”

Shaking his head in rue, Agas shrugged. “Sure is an elusive person, that Prince.”

“Oh, he is so small, what if he got stuck and lost somewhere?” the Father looked near devastated now, hands weakly flailing at his sides.

“It’ll be fine, Kreuz-dono, please calm down,” Agas was on the verge of freaking out as well, but someone ought to keep a cool head here. “Karan’s gone off to find the Prince along the secret passages in case he got caught in one, and Mark is doing his best in searching the parameter, too. We will find him in no time.”

The Father gave a sheepish smile, gave a flamboyant wave as he departed to scan the corridors for hints of the Young Prince’s whereabouts. Agas sighed and stretched his spine.

In any other occasions, this situation would call for an emergency Kingdom-wide search. Agas, however, strongly doubted people would find it funny that four adult men were deemed incapable of finding a small child during a game of hide-and-seek.

“Prince, where might you be?” Agas sang, squinting down the shrubs and up the branches. Really, he almost wanted to curse the huge palace for being the way it was. They should definitely limit the playing area next time. “Prince Tiashe—”

Blinking, Agas leant down with both arms stretched out, and lifted one Wahrheit Tiashe Raggs from under an abundance of jasmine leaves.

“I found you!”

“Ah, I lost to Akkun!”

Young Tiashe laughed, full and whole, voice hummed from his stomach to a brightness of his smile, the intense blush on his childishly-framed visage. Relief washed over Agas all at once, and to prevent dropping the Prince with his suddenly-relaxed arms, he pressed the child against the fabric part of his chest plating.

“Geez, Prince, you sure were hard to find,” Agas said, cradling Tiashe stealthily, “Would you tell me your secret next time?”

“Akkun is good, too! You can find me, after all!” Tiashe giggled, the sounds akin to a back caress. Tilting his head, he asked, eyes wide and gleaming with interest, “How did you find me?”

Agas laughed; it was loud enough to alert the Father inside one of the corridors not quite far along. “Because, my Prince, I could see you squirming from above.”

Tiashe huffed indignantly, the reaction as Agas had expected and found amusing. “That’s not fair, Akkun, you’re tall! I want to be as tall as you, too!”

Whistling, Agas slipped his hands under Tiashe’s arms and carried him upwards, above his head, until Tiashe’s body had partially blocked the sunlight’s direct beam. “Look, Prince! If I do this, you become taller than me!”

Tiashe made a sound; a hybrid between a laugh and a shriek. Agas continued to spin around on his heels as their hair was blown by the wind onto their face. In the middle of their new game, Tiashe’s yells of “Akkun, this is so fun!” mixed with the Father’s resigned sigh.

“You’re the tallest out of all of us now, Prince!” Agas crooned, swooping Tiashe down into a complete stop on his shoulder.

Tiashe was laughing, life radiating from the colours of his skin. Agas tightened his grip, and let the Prince fly.

 

 

 

**ONE.**

The stage is a perfect hollow box; it kindly shadows over the Pope as he stands on the podium, hands on both sides of the microphone. The weather is being merciful; it isn’t too scorching to make sweats rub over other people in this crowd, and it has just the right amount of breeze to enjoy standing around for.

Not that standing actually changes anything for a six years old kid who can barely see the stage even atop piles of wooden blocks.

Leo squints mournfully at the stage tens of metres away from where he is bumping shoulders with his two friends, one hand above his line of sight. “I can’t see him like this!”

Karey doesn’t get to voice his mutual annoyance at their situation.

“I am Wahrheit Teito Klein,” the speakers surrounding the area blare; the three friends slap a hand over their ear in reflex.

“Well, at least we can hear him,” Markus says, always the positive voice between the three.

The screen behind the Pope flickers into life; now the Pope is a big head on an even bigger screen, eyes looking straight forward as if intensely trying to petrify them with his gaze alone.

Leo tears up.

Something within him swells, implodes, a parade of sort. His eyes sting, eyelids refused to be closed. Without a command, his body moves to burn the image into his memory, carving the very figure of the current Pope onto the wall of his heart.

He thinks Karey is asking him if he’s okay; he thinks he hears Markus discreetly panic.

But all he can hear is Wahrheit Teito Klein’s voice, volume and pitch raised as the reestablishment of the Raggs Kingdom is declared, and suddenly there are lots of noises and the Pope’s voice disperses along the crowd’s feverish cheers.

Leo doesn’t stop crying even as the Pope silences, relishes the celebration washing them down.

“Karey, Markus,” he whispers, doesn’t even glance to look his friends eye-to eye. “I know what I want to do.”

Karey is the first to reply with an amused question. “What is it?”

“Are you trying to become a soldier of Raggs?” Markus asks, in a fashion much like a nagging mother, but with less concern and more confusion.

Both Karey and Leo blink at him.

“I don’t know, it just,” Markus flails, and this is where they notice that right now they don’t see each other’s face when talking, “it feels like something to do.”

Right now, they are all looking at the Pope tens of metres away, a figure so deserving of respect and love that each of their inside has instantly become fuller with feelings to shower him with.

“Let’s join the church,” Karey says.

Any one of them could have said it and it would still hold the same sense of finality.

It is a finale. The curtain is drawing to a close. The next part is starting.

The sun is directly above their head, its light radiated evenly across the sea of people. Leo squints, and imagines a welcoming smile on the Pope’s face—a smile so uncharacteristically child-like, a liberation.

Karey and Markus bump their shoulders together; almost like fate, the decision lays a clear path in front of them.

He wonders if this counts as one of his three wishes, and finds a pang of familiarity in between his heartbeats.

The words he says next are easy.

 

 

 

**three.**

The Prince flew.

Agas swallowed some dust.

His face muscles ached from keeping his smile etched. The sensation of the Prince’s warmth on his hands didn’t linger. His sense of direction blurred; he was either falling head first or shooting upwards like a bullet. But he knew at the end of his destination was death, no matter if the attack from the Eye of Raphael would have happened or not.

He wouldn’t survive this, but all he felt was relief.

The Prince managed to fly, after all.

_Surely, as long as the Prince lives on, we will...._

An impact came all too soon; his last thoughts evaporated, and then everything disappeared without even a countdown.

 

_...again...._


End file.
